


Two of Everything (Return of the Amoeba)

by Larastiel



Series: Supernarural/Hogwarts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Auror Dean, Destiel - Freeform, I made myself sad, I'm so sorry, M/M, Ministry of Magic, One Shot, Patronus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larastiel/pseuds/Larastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life happens, an amoeba comes back to bite a wizard in the ass, and suddenly two of anything is one too many for Castiel.</p><p> Destiel SPN/Hogwarts AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of Everything (Return of the Amoeba)

**Author's Note:**

> Note the warnings: I am not kidding. Out of the Bag was a happy one, this ain't so be prepared. This was a short, spontaneus brain-fart but I would really want to know your opinions on this so come and say hi in the comments? 
> 
> I know it says SPN/Hogwarts, but in this story everyone's graduated already. If you haven't read Out of the Bag, you should do that first. Love for everyone who commented and gave kudos etc. on the previous one, this is for you. You're the best! -Lara

_“What are the chances that professor Crowley would believe us if we tried to convince him that your patronus is an amoeba?” Laughter. “My god Cas, how are you such a dork?”_

 Cas remembers that comment, the jab he made about Dean’s foggy attempt of a patronus. That day, years ago, he thinks he might have found his own joke funny. Now he just feels like screaming. He’s forgetting as it is inevitable, now when he needs to remember everything clearer than ever. To be truthful, he really can’t say if it would be better to lose every stored memory from the past twenty-five or so years. At least he wouldn’t feel like hurling every goddamn time that he hears Dean’s voice inside his head.

  _“Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”_

 He’d been Dean’s friend since they were thirteen. They’d been something much bigger and complicated since they were seventeen. Sometimes Cas had felt they were too much, occasionally too little but always there. The complex that was Cas’s and Dean’s relationship was -- and remains to be -- the largest influence in his life. Castiel thinks that no amount of forgetting will ever change that. Hell, before Dean nobody had even called him Cas, and because of him Castiel now referred to himself with the nickname Dean gave. He can’t just forget.

 They had ended up graduating and getting jobs like proper upstanding citizens, and after some serious maturing and growing up, also married. Proposing hadn’t been the easiest task for Dean, and despite everything Cas finds himself smiling at the memory of his flustered face and stuttering confessions of love. Not that he’d made it any easier on the poor man, but then again Dean always loved to accuse Cas of being a major tease and an asshole. Looking back he can say he was lucky to be so happy. Now he can’t look at bloody fog without crying.

 

-

 

_Dead._

They had come to pick him up from work. Some unknown Ministry workers just showed up in the afternoon, pulled him aside and explained the situation. Castiel had panicked and naturally apparated away the second they gave him the address.

Sam was already at the site, as he’d probably gotten the info quicker due to his and Dean’s shared employee. Cas didn’t really register the tall wizard at all when he rushed past him, but could later remember how catatonic he’d seemed. Other aurors and Ministry folk mingled about on the scene, but to Cas only one figure mattered. And because world is a shitty and unfair place, it was the figure of his love on the ground. “ _DEAN!”_

 He didn’t slow down one bit when he ran to the body and threw himself on Dean. Clutching the muddy auror’s robe, he sobbed and buried his face in the other’s unmoving chest.The horrid wail of his husband’s name had gotten a lot of attention, people wincing around the field and Sam flinching out of his trance. Cas couldn’t raise his head again ‘cause he couldn’t handle seeing Dean’s face. Like this he just knew what’s happened, the corpse was cold and stiff, chest not rising for breath. Like this he could try and slow his own breathing to match Dean’s. But if he’d looked up, he could’ve almost pretended that the man beneath him was only sleeping, peace in his features. He hated, he loathed Avada Kedavra, taking away everything he has and leaving no mark for it. He couldn’t afford to think him asleep for his mind couldn’t take it.

Behind him there was talk of moving the corpse away, but Cas knew that after this there wasn’t any way to touch this brilliant man ever again so he didn’t budge. For the first time ever, he felt like dying.

 

\--

 

Cas lowers both his wand and his eyes, looking away from the world at large. He sits on the sofa of their -- _his_ , provides his treacherous mind -- flat and stares at his knees, looking anywhere but at the air in front of him. Hours ago he’d come here in order to lock the door and keep everyone else away, willing his eyes to dry and letting the quiet soothe him. Silence, that would never be broken when his husband came home from work. On his left there’s a half-drunk coffee mug Dean would never finish and now Cas can’t even nag about it to him. Tonight his bed is going to be half full, and the scent of Dean will be gone in a month or so. The flat has two of everything, now for nothing, Cas is going to have to clean here but the thought is unbearable, he’ll have to finish the pie alone and watch tonight’s movie alone because _Dean is not ever coming back--_

 It had taken him a full hour to stop crying.

 He’d felt a bit better but somehow empty. Cas knows that the missing something isn’t ever coming back but he’d been desperate for a piece of his lost Dean. Anything.

 So he’d taken out his wand.

 In hindsight, he should have guessed the patronus wouldn’t bring him any comfort but he had done it anyway. Just the thought of his wolf appearing to a world without it’s mate made him ache, but in reality all he’d gotten was that blasted fog now slowly fading away in the living room air. He just couldn’t. It’s slowly starting to seem like he will never conjure a patronus again. Castiel is now a thirty-two year old widow whose patronus has died along with his love, crying alone on the floor because of amoebas.


End file.
